August 4, 2015
Two weeks ago, my best friend and I set off for what we were positive would be an adventure of a lifetime: a weeklong backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail. I’m not sure exactly where or how this idea was conceived, but this trip seemed to unfold in a surreal manner until we actually set foot on the trail. After months of preparation and countless people telling me we were bound to get murdered, raped, and moonshined, we were off! Two 20 year-old girls with minimal backpacking experience, two oversized backpacks, a film camera, Virginia’s sketchbook and my journal, 64 miles, 6 days, and the entire state of Maryland. However, nothing could have prepared us for such a mental and physical journey, nor could we ever foresee the countless amazing and inspiring people we would meet as well as the crazy stories we would fortunately live to tell. Below are some excerpts from the journal I kept while we were on the trail and some insight to an infinitely rewarding experience that surely won’t be our last.
Day 1
The first night on the trail was a mild baptism by fire. Overall, the 7 hour car ride up to Harper’s Ferry was a complete drag- what with overheating cars and an eerily low morale. When we arrived at Harper’s Ferry, a strange nervousness pulsed through my veins; shortening my breath and pressuring my heartbeat. An uninvited awkwardness permeated the dusky, West Virginia humidity and for a horrifying moment, I wasn’t sure if I should be there at all.
A man named Mark (Strings) picked us up and drove us 60 miles to our trailhead. An excited man in his mid-50s, Mark lived and breathed the trail and immediately became a calming presence. Talks of music and adventure occupied our ride and I felt the excitement reenter my being. The trail was no longer this looming, dark shadow of intimidation.
We started our first hike around 8 pm. Not ideal, of course, but as long as we could make it three miles to the first shelter, we’d be OK. Our packs were heavy and our exhausting day had unfortunately caught up to us. About 20 minutes into our hike, low and behold, a Rattlesnake! Terrified though I was, I’m eternally grateful that little bastard warned us he was there. It was hilariously horrifying.
Darkness settled in around us, the headlamps came out, and our anxiety set in. I wondered if we would ever get to the shelter as three miles up and down hills and over rocks is a lot longer than three miles on a treadmill. However, you get to know your own fears by staring them right in the face. We arrived at the shelter around 10 pm- tired, sweaty, but glorious. A man waved to us, perched on the lean-to, smoking a cigarette. Bearded, tan, and thin, this man had been clearly worn by the elements. I wondered how this contrasted with my physical appearance. With my normal stature, clean look, and fare skin; did I look like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing? Could this man tell I was completely winging it?
This man’s name, we learned, was Gecko. I learned a lot about Gecko that night, yet I feel as though there’s so, so much more to his life. On the trail, though, you may not know details about someone’s life, but you truly learn to capture their essence. I must admit that algorithms busied themselves in my brain and at first I was a little weary of this man. He had a knife, a BIG knife, he just ran out of food, and currently had no money. He was on the trail because he really didn’t know what else to do, and was hoping to find his way up to Alaska to get eaten by a bear. The more we talked, the more I learned. I learned that rattlesnake and moose meat are delicious, that people use newspapers and microwave them into burritos in jail, and that black tar heroin “treats you like a queen and then makes you her bitch.” I offered Gecko some food, hoping to pass on some good energy and also hoping that he wouldn’t stab and rob us in our sleep. But all in all, I was grateful to have met him that evening. He was simply surviving like the rest of us.
At that time, the forest lulls us to sleep and the insects share our shelter. I hear noises in the distance and I do not know if they’re animal or human, but I’m peaceful and unafraid. Here were are all animals. Gecko, Virginia, and the frenzied insects dancing for the light. We finally get to sleep; Virginia, Gecko, and I. Virginia sleeps calmly, delicately, and defiantly with one hand resting on her knife.
Day 2
The second day was long and arduous as our bodies had to quickly get used to hiking all day with 40 pounds on our backs. I didn’t have much to write about at the end of day 2, as I was feeling too exhausted to pick up a pen and was rather mentally defeated. We did meet tons of thru hikers on our first full day. Hiking in Pennsylvania and going south through Maryland put us right around the half way point on the trail. Therefore, we met many hikers, all of whom were headed north, nearing the midpoint of their journey. Most of the thru hikers were tired and weary as they had already been traveling anywhere between two and three and a half months. I enjoyed listening to their stories but immediately felt incompetent as most thru hikers did 20 mile days easy. I was struggling with 10 as I am someone who frequently enjoys stopping, taking pictures, and just enjoying the scenery. On the trail however, you have a destination that you have to arrive at by a certain time. Stopping whenever you want isn’t always an option.
We met one man, Mix-Match, who was what they call a “triple crowner”, meaning he had hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, the Continental Divide Trail, and was now half way through the Appalachian Trail. He was a real laid back, a real California guy, and just a beast when it came to hiking.
Day 3
I found much more energy in Day 3. We did another 10 miles but they seemed gentler. The soreness was there, but it lingered quietly. Halfway through our day’s hike we celebrated with pizza at Pen-Mar State Park, right after we crossed the border into Maryland. There was something so strange about eating pizza at a state park after nearly two full days in the woods without so much as a single overlook.
Around sunset, we trekked it up to High Top Rock and got that view for which I had been longing. It was breathtaking and we perched like delicate birds on top of an enormous valley with the Appalachian Mountains bordering hazy. Talking to the locals who came out to simply enjoy the sunset was spiritually uplifting. A bike rider named Gary talked to us for a long while and ended up taking a photo of us for some kind of souvenir. I felt like some sort of undeserving celebrity. Another two young girls were absolutely fascinated with our whole situation. Their youthful curiosity was wonderfully incessant and they believed so much in the world and its magic. Finally, and perhaps most meaningful of all was a mother who told her little girl that WE were the types of girls to be like when she grew up. It’s amazing how a shared sense of wanderlust can ignite so much passion and curiosity.
At the end of the day, I lay in my tent; alone with my thoughts and the forest noises: wondering if they are friends or foes. Meditating on my insignificance, trying to dispel loneliness and dissolve ego. I am out here so vulnerable yet so strong. Emotions, honest emotions, flow like the streams; joy, fear, wonder, excitement, humility. Here I am the stars and the miniscule specs of dust.
Day 4
Tonight I sit atop of Annapolis rock after a long, 13 mile day. Feeling like a god. Feeling voyeuristic. I am overlooking a valley, admiring a picturesque town far below me and miles away. Missing from this picture are the jungle gym malls, the web of intersections, and advertisement jingles around every corner. I cannot help but think they’re still there. Hiding in a pleasant Maryland town.
I am forever sentimental up here. Today we met a man named Karma. He offered us a smoke so calmly and inaudibly that I originally mistook his kindness for hesitancy. Karma had these big, blue, soulful eyes. Eyes one can truly see into and eyes through which one’s essence can truly be seen. He sat hunched over next to his wife, thin, slightly graying hair pulled back into a gentle ponytail. His soft sharp face looked as though it hadn’t always been so thin, as if life had truly tested him and he made peace with the challenge in his angled cheekbones. And yet, his covert kindness touched me in the most profound way. Nothing to prove, no label to self-promote. Just a quiet, stolen offer to share his earth.
After meeting Karma, we trudged through our long day and practically ran the last mile to get to our beautiful campsite. On the trail, I am always stumbling on ways in which my experiences seem to be those of fate and tonight was one of them. Tired, dirty, and desperate, we found our way to Annapolis Rock where a group of kids were watching the sunset. Long story short, we were so hungry that we ended up mooching s’mores off of these kids and stayed to talk with them and their rock climbing camp leader Jonathan. I found myself so particularly inclined towards children on this journey and these kids were a beautiful bunch. Questions upon questions, these kids were not only all too eager to ask but oh so anxious to tell. There was something so pure and honest in the way one of my favorite kids hugged me at the end of the night and muttered, “I’ll probably never see you again.” It wasn’t happy, or sad, it just was. Goodbyes always contain undertones of sadness but this one did not. Perhaps we’re truly only meant to waltz briefly into one another’s lives.
We talked in depth with their leader, Jonathan, who was such a pure human. He was so inviting and simply excited to talk about the world. He spoke of his backpacking adventures through South America, something I dream of doing as well. He said that in South America, it’s not that people are necessarily kinder, but that you’re in more of a place to see and accept kindness. This is exactly how it is on the trail. You truly see one another’s beauty and kindness is offered and accepted as easily as a stream flows through the mountains.
Day 5
After our long journey to Annapolis Rock, Day 5 was a treat as it was only 7 painless miles. However, I began to feel as though my body was slowly starting to fall apart. We stayed at an amazing Backpackers campground complete with showers, pizza, and lovely conversation. I almost felt wrong for taking a shower, as if I was washing off a part of myself. The dirt, sweat, and bug bites had become so integrated into my trail being that I felt something unnatural about washing them away. We talked with a veteran thru hiker named Max (Bear Bag) who told me “The amount of camo someone has is directly inverse to their chances of completing the trail.” I immediately felt weird about my camo sleeping pad. Other than that, we talked a lot about life on the Appalachian Trail and life in general. About tiny houses and working with cultural changes rather than against them. Max nearly froze to death when he hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2013. He stared death right in the face and basically brushes it off in conversation. I have nothing but the utmost respect for people like Max and for anyone who sets out to complete the trail. Over two thousand miles and at least six months of your life—what an exhilarating and terrifying situation. Such honesty in the truest sense of the words. Hiking just 64 miles had truly taught me that each and every moment of every day is a victory to be loved and appreciated.
For now though, my feet are numb, my ankles blistered, and my self-doubt looms in the background. But I am filled with ecstatic joy and wondrous freedom.
Day 6
Our last full, 11 mile day of hiking was incredible. Although my body hurt more than it had all trip, every step I took was supported with such vigor and determination to push on. I finally felt my body adapting to the hiking, I thrived on the uphill, and truly embodied the trail blazer mentality. Day 6 was also a very important day for Virginia and me as we spent it growing extremely close to the best friends we met on our entire trip.
We met Jim, Pat, Mike, Mike, Tony, and his dog Tessa the previous night at the Backpacker’s Campground. Although we shared a Seafood Lovers pizza with Tony, who was close to our age, we didn’t spend too much time getting to know them upon initial meeting. Luckily, we woke up early enough to begin our long hike right after them and proceeded to spend the entire day and night with these men. These five, incredible men showed me that the trail truly does bring people of all walks of life together in the most beautiful ways. These men were out for just the weekend as part of a church organized trip. Now, Virginia has never been to church in her life and the two of us are about as secular as they come. As an atheist, I’ve met plenty of secular people who immediately think of Christians as unintelligent and bigoted just like I’ve met plenty of Christians who immediately think of atheists as misguided and evil. But, as the Dalai Lama says, religious beliefs are not indicative of one’s capacity for good or evil, and this difference between us truly felt so minor out on the trail. The fact is, god or no god, these were some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met who had nothing but curiosity and excitement for their fellow human. Not only did they truly embody what I see as the essence of Christianity, but they further enforced my belief that one should never judge a person based on a label.
We had nothing but fun with these guys. They shared their trail mix and apples with us and asked us in depth about our passions. As an aspiring writer and Virginia as an aspiring artist, it truly means so much when an outsider wants to know what our creations are all about. At night, we built a fire together and talked about everything from rogue Boy scout Leaders to Mike’s plan to raise money to send water filters to third world countries via a fundraiser involving the Appalachian Trail. Our campsite, being the first one North of Harper’s Ferry, was buzzing and filled with weekend backpackers. It was also the first night we actually met other hikers who were the same age as us. Contrary to my initial belief, we had been by far the youngest ones out on the trail up until the last night.
Day 7
Our final day was an easy 6 mile hike into Harper’s Ferry and was filled with bitter sweetness. We made the journey with our new friends as well as some stellar young men named Sam and Corey since we all had the same destination. So many thoughts and emotions swarmed through my head in those short miles to Virginia’s car. All week I had been thinking about seeing her car, about eating Chipotle and sleeping in a bed. I’m sure this comes as no surprise to anyone reading it, but as my journey’s end neared, I found myself increasingly wanting to turn around and go back into the woods. Into the excitement, the honesty, the pure, raw emotion that comes with simply surviving and embracing every victory throughout the day. It was hard to say goodbye to our friends. I thought of the children at Annapolis Rock and how they simply confronted the fact head on that they would never see me again. I knew this would probably be the case with Sam, Corey, Mike, Mike, Pat, Jim, and Tony but I didn’t want it to be. I do hope I see them again but perhaps it wouldn’t feel right to see them anywhere but the trail. I shared my essence with them and they shared their essence with me. So many beautiful souls, so many wonderful stories.
So here I am, over a week later, missing life on the trail in every inch of my being. I can’t help but think of High Top Rock, a beautiful overlook that was covered with graffiti. Virginia sat there painting the sunset and inadvertently sat over a bit of graffiti that said “Wild I Am.” These words have been circling through my thoughts and memories for the past week. What a way to describe the feeling out on the trail. Wild I am. Not because I try to be, not because society is pushing me to be, but because I am simply existing in my most honest and essential state.